


Bug

by CoffeeFairy



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 07:06:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12835893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoffeeFairy/pseuds/CoffeeFairy
Summary: Emma and Neal say goodbye to a beloved companion. One shot, Swanfire cuteness.





	Bug

The parking lot was deserted this late at night. A lone neon sign flickered at one end sending a vague, otherworldly light across the lot. The other side was lined by a dense wall of trees, the darkness under the low branches impenetrable. In the silky night air the vague rustling of foliage and the murmur of traffic whispered. Except for one car, parked in the middle, the lot was empty. 

 

During the day the lot served as a space for secondary parking for the large mall across the road, accessible through a dingy tunnel under the busy highway. Unless you had to, you parked in the main lot and therefore there was usually space from early evening to late morning. In addition the security guards rarely made the effort of walking as far from the main lot as to the secondary lot and this, combined with its relative proximity to the town centre, made it the ideal spot for the one car currently parked.

 

It was a 1972 yellow Volkswagen Type 1, colloquially known as a Bug. The colour was unusual by anoyone’s standards and betrayed its conception in the brashly coloured 70’s. Even in the half dusk of the flickering neon sign it stood out brightly in the dark. 

 

The doors of the car opened and two figures climbed out. Suddenly music poured out in the night, the bass rolling over the asphalt in waves. The taller of the two, a man in his early twenties with bark brown hair and dimples that had deepened to creases when he grinned. He was grinning. Dressed in a worn canvas jacket over a hoodie and jeans he carried a blanket under his arm. Spreading it over the sloped hood of the bug he hoisted himself up to sit. 

 

The girl, a blonde in her late teens, her hair pulled into a sleek and bouncy tail down her back reached for something in the car. Dressed in a leather jacket and worn black jeans she looked like any regular teenager. Which was precisely the point. 

 

When she straightened, she was laughing too, holding a bucket of fried chicken and a large soda bottle. Putting it next to the man on the hood of the car she too pulled herself up on the hood. 

 

In a moment they were both tearing into the food, their laughter ringing out in unconcerned ripples over the lot like only young people’s laughter can. 

 

When the bucket was empty, it and the bottle were discarded and the man laid back, leaning on the windshield, his arm held out invitingly. Needing no further prompting the girl slid into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. 

 

As they laid there, the man pointing up at the stars, gesturing grandly to the sound of the girls’ laughter, the cassette clicked, the tape changing sides. A moment later a rhythmic synth tune started, the iconic intro to Only You by Yazoo filling the parking lot like the band was playing right next to them. 

 

The man and the girl both fell silent as the unaffected tones of the singer picked up over the electrical synth strands. Both still now, they laid, listening with the breathless concentration of the days before the “play on repeat” button existed. In that moment their senses brought into sharp focus all around them. They would both forever more be able to perfectly recall the feel of each other’s bodies twined together on a scratchy blanket on the hood of a car, of base pounding through the metal like a heartbeat outside their bodies. Of a smell of gasoline and fried chicken and Little Tree Pine Car Air Freshener. Of summer night air caressing their cheeks and tousling their hair. Of the feeling of being absolutely content, of knowing you were exactly where you were meant to be, sharing it with the only person able to feel exactly the same. 

 

As the outro began, the girl spoke.

 

“Is this our song now?”

 

The man shifted so he could meet her gaze.

 

“Yeah.” He tilted his head, his smile growing roguish. “This, or It’s A Small World, I just can’t decide, it’s so catchy.”

 

The girl’s laughter rang out over the lot again, and it embroidered gilt edges around the memory for the man. 

 

o.O.o

 

Twenty Years Later

 

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to bid farewell to one of our most loyal companions.”

 

The day was overcast in Storybrooke, the wind nipping at exposed skin, icy rain in the air. Still, a small group of people were gathered in the backyard of the Swan-Cassidy house. On the back lawn stood a small yellow car, by all signs old but well-loved and tended. It had rolled over a hundred and fifty thousand miles, but it had always been more than simply a means to get from A to B. It had been a home and it had been a sanctuary. It had been an escape, a refuge and a fortress against the outside world. It had been Freedom. 

 

Since it had shipped from the factory, brand new and sparkling in 1972 it had changed hands a few times. But no hands had looked after it better or with more care than Emma Swan and Neal Cassidy. To them the yellow car had been much more than just a car. It had been what brought them together in the first place, it had been their home for periods of time and it had been an enduring part of their life. They had driven to work in it, taken their children to school and moved houses with it. They taught Henry, their oldest, to drive in it. Like a friend it had followed them, always fitting into the next place and the next stage. 

 

But nature couldn’t be tricked forever and the yellow Volkswagen had drawn its last metaphorical breath forty-nine years after its conception. It had only been right the four-wheeled companion should be sent off with a farewell. 

 

“I found you on a small street in the Eastside of Portland. You were dirty and worn and by looking at the dust on your hood I knew no one had driven you for years. But I was desperate and lucky and your keys were kept on the front wheel under the fender,” Neal spoke, a hand kept affectionately on the yellow body of the vehicle. 

 

Around him stood his wife, his two children, his father, his in-laws and his friends. The little car had touched many hearts in its life and even to those the metal and combustion engine meant little, they knew what it represented to Emma and to Neal. 

 

“You’ve taken me to all the best places in my life. You helped me find my family, my wife and my...Tallahassee.” 

 

A glance, short and fleeting passed between him and Emma, charged with what both felt and neither had to say. 

 

“You’ve taken me through and from all the hard times, and you’ve made sure we were warm, safe and...in time for work.” He patted the hood. “Mostly.”

 

“And for this, and everything in between, we say thank you and enjoy your well-earned rest...Lola.”

 

The somber silence was broken by Emma.

 

“Lola?”

 

“Yeah, Lola.”

 

“This car is not named Lola.”

 

“Sure it is.”

 

“No.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“No.”

 

At this point the other attendees rolled their eyes, sighed or smiled charitably. From experience they knew any discussion between husband and wife could take anything between hours and days. Steering back to the house, they left Emma and Neal to it. They didn’t notice.

 

“Its name is Bug.”

 

Neal spluttered, “Bug? Bug is common. It’s easy. This car deserves better. It’s Lola.”

 

“It does deserve better - better than to be named for a song by The Kinks.”

 

“You like The Kinks.”

 

“That’s not the point.”

 

“It’s Lola. I had it first and I named her Lola.”

 

“I had her longer and I named it Bug.”

 

“See, you only use “it” for it. This is clearly a she. A Lola.”

 

Emma crossed her arms over her chest. “Bug.”

 

“Lola.”

 

“Bug.”

 

“Lola.”

 

Emma threw her arms out. “I can do this all day.”

 

“So can I.” Neal crossed his arms as well. Then he thought better of it. “Okay, okay. Compromise - her name is Lola Bug. First name and last name. She deserves it.”

 

Emma managed to hold her stern face for another moment before a laugh warmed the cold air around them.

 

“Lola Bug?”

 

“It’s both of us.”

 

Emma sighed and stepped closer, putting her hand on the hood as well. 

 

“It is.”

 

Neal’s hand covered hers on the cold, yellow metal.

 

“I’m going to miss it. Her.” Emma leaned her head on Neal’s shoulder, his arm snaking around her waist.

 

“Me too.” Neal pressed his lips to the top of her head. “I fell in love with you sitting on the hood of this car. I made love to you for the first time in the backseat of it. Henry was probably conceived in it. We were going to drive it to our Happy Ever After.”

 

She looked up at the house, the covered porch, the wide sash windows where she could see her family and friends moving inside.

 

“We did.”

 

He chuckled, the rumble of it reverberating through her bringing to mind the humming of the Bug’s engine.

 

“We did, though we didn’t take the easiest route.”

 

“We got a little lost. We had no map, after all.”

 

“Maps make the assumption you want to get somewhere quickly. We ended up where we wanted to.”

 

“Yeah, we did.”

 

Emma sighed again, and Neal reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, velvet box. Spotting it, she straightened slightly. 

 

“You don’t think getting married once was enough?”

 

“I was drunk last time. I thought I could remember it this time,” Neal joked. “Go on, open it.”

 

She flicked the lid and revealed two small keys, both with the characteristic Volkswagen logo of the entwined “V”s at the top. Keys that fit the car.

 

“You made a copy of the key?”

 

For twenty years there had only been one key for the car and though it had been annoying and inconvenient it had never occurred to them to have a second set made. Until now. 

 

“I did. And it gets better.” He lifted the key to show it was attached to a thin, silver chain. “She won’t be able to take us places anymore but we can bring her with us anywhere we go.”

 

A small sniffle escaped Emma. “Now you’ve done it.” She swiped at her eyes. “I hate you.” She sniffled again. “Give it.”

 

Helping her to put it on, she then fumbled his in place, her gloves clamped between her teeth. Adjusting hers to sit straight, nestled next to the swan key chain he’d once given her, his smile was slanted, touched by a twinge of sorrow. 

 

“Looking good, Swan.”

 

Drawing a deep breath, the mist of her exhalation rose between them in the cold air. Looking up under lowered lashes, face framed by her long blonde hair and gray beanie, she spoke,

 

“Wanna make out in the backseat for old time’s sake?”

 

“I can’t think of a better send off for...Lola.”

 

She swatted him with a laugh and they were both still smiling when the yellow car door closed behind them.

**Author's Note:**

> It was really fun to play with a ship I don't write very often, I hope you liked it too! :)


End file.
